


He Had It Coming

by BearWithAHat



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Chicago AU, Flashbacks, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Moral Ambiguity, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Prison, Song: Cell Block Tango (Chicago), and none of the relationships have a happy ending sjsjs, nobody in this is a good person sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearWithAHat/pseuds/BearWithAHat
Summary: After he is arrested for the murder of his lover, Lance meets a group of inmates who are in for crimes like his. They take turns telling their stories.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo/Carlos Sainz Jr, Daniel Ricciardo/Others, Esteban Ocon/Lance Stroll, Fernando Alonso/Kimi Räikkönen, Kevin Magnussen/Nico Rosberg, Lando Norris/Lance Stroll, Marcus Ericsson/Antonio Giovinazzi, Nico Hulkenberg/Kevin Magnussen, Pierre Gasly/Max Verstappen, Valtteri Bottas/Others, Valtteri Bottas/Sebastian Vettel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sjsj this is inspired by the song 'Cell Block Tango' from the musical Chicago :o) which has been my favourite musical since i was like eight years old. this was a bitch to plan honestly because of the amount of characters omfg.
> 
> so in case you for whatever reason did not read the tags: this whole fic is about murder!! there's nothing graphic and the brief violence isn't very descriptive or gorey, but if in general you'd rather not read about drivers murdering their husbands in the 1920's, then this one isn't for you sjsj, please dont say i didnt warn you.
> 
> sorry if your fave gets killed :(

Lance could still hear the jazz music from the club ringing in his ears as he let out a pleased sigh and sank back into the pillows of his bed. He felt Lando climb off of him, the mattress shifting slightly as he stood up from the bed entirely. Lance propped himself up on his elbows and watched Lando search around the room for his clothes, which they had hurriedly pulled off upon making it back to Lance's apartment.

Normally, Lando at least stayed to cuddle him for a few minutes after they slept together, but this time Lando was obviously in a hurry to leave. Lance wondered if he had done something wrong and asked, "hey, where are you going so fast?"

"That husband of yours will be home soon, won't he?" Lando huffed, pulling his boxers back on. He turned his back to Lance and shrugged his pants back on, fiddling with his belt as Lance glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Ten o'clock at night.

"Oh, Esteban won't be home for another few hours. He took an extra shift at the factory," Lance assured him.

Part of him knew he should feel guilty for cheating on Esteban, and he genuinely did have a nagging guilt that seeped into him every time Lando's lips were on his skin or whenever Esteban came home at the end of a long day and gave him a sweet smile, saying how glad he was to see Lance. At one point, Lance wouldn't have even considered looking in another man's direction. It used to be that he was so deeply infatuated with Esteban and was utterly faithful to him. Lance still loved him, he didn't think he was capable of ever _not_ loving Esteban, but a problem had arisen when Esteban had gotten a job at a factory downtown.

No matter how many times Lance told him that neither of them needed to work, Lance's family fortune was more than enough to live off of, Esteban had insisted on getting a job. It wasn't in the Frenchman's nature to just be idle; he had grown up poor and working from a young age, and Esteban wasn't content without doing some sort of work.

Esteban was gone for _hours_. He worked from early at dawn to late at night, and Lance was left utterly alone for most of the week. Lance knew he should have been a dutiful and dedicated spouse who waited at home patiently for his husband to return, he should have spent the day preparing for Esteban to come home all tired and work-weary. Instead, he sought the comfort of another, of Lando, who he met at a jazz club. The two of them fell into bed together, and Lance told himself it was just because he was driven to desperation for some sort of affection.

In the back of his mind, Lance knew it was adultery all the same, regardless of why he liked to think he did it. That didn't stop him from it though, and it didn't stop him from feeling a little bit relieved when Lando sat back down on the bed once he was fully dressed.

"Well in that case...I do have something I've been meaning to ask you about," Lando said, shyly smiling.

Lance sat up and pulled a nightgown from his dresser, slipping the soft silk over himself and sitting cross-legged in bed. He waited for Lando to go on.

"Business for my father has not been great recently. I know we try to ignore it, but your dad is his biggest competitor. Lawrence Stroll's business is thriving but my father's business is starting to fail because of it," Lando began a bit awkwardly. Lance held his breath and was concerned about what he was going to say next.

His father's booming business generally wasn't much of Lance's concern, it didn't involve him that much, and he preferred to stay out of it. Lando had the same views about his family's business, which was why they had initially gotten along so well due to the shared experience. This was the first time since they had met months ago that they were talking about the fact that their fathers were competitors, and Lance was nervous about what was to follow.

"You love me, right?" Lando asked with a bit of hesitation.

"Yeah, I do," Lance answered, reaching out to put his hand on Lando's knee for a moment.

"Is there any way you could um, do some digging in your father's office? Anything that, if it got out, would drive some business back to my father? I know that's a lot to ask of you, but we're a bit desperate here, and it's not like it would be a huge loss for your family. Billionaires can afford to lose some of their clientele, right?" Lando asked. The whole time, he struggled to meet Lance's gaze, only looking up at him for a few slivers of a second at a time.

At first, Lance thought he was joking. When Lando didn't follow it up with a laugh or some sort of indicator that he wasn't legitimately asking, Lance's jaw fell open and he raised an eyebrow in shock. It took some nerve to ask for the infidel you were hooking up with to dig up drama about their own father, Lance thought, and he wasn't sure if the shock or the disgust made him angrier.

"Are you fucking serious?" Lance stuttered, "you want me to help you sabotage my own father? No, I can't do that. Why would I do that?"

"Oh come on, because you care about me! You're already not some saint, is this really any worse than what you're doing already?" Lando argued, raising his voice. He stood up and crossed his arms, his expression rather indignant.

Lance gave him a disgusted look and kicked the sheets off of himself. He was on his feet in an instant, wrapping his dressing gown tighter around himself while a hot rush of anger pulsed through him. What Lando was insinuating wasn't necessarily wrong, he was cheating on his husband, which was immoral in most people's view, but being called out on it hurt, especially when it was coming from the person enabling him.

"Look, I know that I've messed up and I'm an awful partner to Esteban, but there is no way that I'm stooping to that level," he insisted, tears blurring his vision.

"Fine. I guess Esteban will just have to find out that you've been whoring around while he's out at work. In fact, I think the Lawrence Stroll's son having an affair would make just as good of a scandal. With some embellishments to the story to take myself out, I think it would make for a great one," Lando threatened, his lips curling into a mocking smile. He turned to leave the apartment, biting back a laugh, and Lance felt something within him snap.

Lance didn't think about anything, he could only act. Before any rationale could come to him, Lance opened the dresser drawer once more and pulled out the handgun that he knew was buried in there somewhere. Neither he or Esteban had ever used it, and he wasn't sure they had ever planned to use it. None of that crossed Lance's mind as he pointed the gun at Lando, muttering, "don't you take another step towards that door."

Holding his breath, Lance watched the Brit stop and turn around. There was just a faint glimmer of fear that he saw flash through Lando's eyes, and Lance hoped that he wasn't visibly scared too. Every muscle in Lance's body felt tense and he had to direct all his energy into holding his hand still, though he could still see the gun shaking.

"You're gonna shoot me?" Lando mocked, despite the fear that crept into his voice, and Lance nodded frantically. Lando rolled his eyes and said, "you're a coward, you won't do shit."

When Lando turned back around and took a step towards the door, Lance squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

There were two loud, consecutive noises that shattered his ears and seemed to echo throughout the entire world. Lance was afraid to open his eyes and he dropped the gun immediately afterward, cringing at the metallic sound of it clanging across the wooden floorboards. There was a dull thud too, and Lance nearly passed out when he opened his eyes to see Lando on the ground, laying awkwardly on his back and facing the ceiling.

"Oh my god," Lance breathed, the adrenaline dying out and leaving him a sniffling mess. He rushed over to Lando, stopping short a few feet away, and slapped a hand over his mouth. The room felt sickeningly cold as he doubled over, taking in the sight of Lando's soulless eyes and his mouth still slightly open.

Lance didn't know how long he had been standing there, on the verge of collapsing to his knees in front of the body of his former lover, before he heard the front door creak open. A whole new sense of dread filled him as he heard Esteban's sweet voice calling his name, and now Lance had no way to stop what had just happened from reaching anyone else's knowledge. He wasn't sure if he was more afraid of Esteban finding out he had murdered someone or finding out he had been cheating for months.

There were a couple seconds of panic in which Lance couldn't will himself to move before Esteban came into the bedroom. He was smiling, obviously tired from work, and Lance wished he could have done something other than stand there with a terribly guilty look on his face.

"Hello love, how was your..." Esteban trailed off as he saw the body on the ground, and Lance looking as pale as the sheets on the bed. His eyes trailed around the room, narrowing in on the handgun that lay abandoned a short distance away. Esteban gripped the door frame to keep himself up and gulped, "did you _...kill someone_?"

Lance took a few steps back, nodding and wrapping his arms around himself. Esteban went through the same shock he had, unable to say anything or move for a few everlasting minutes. Eventually he seemed to pull himself out of the clouds a bit, and he winced as he stepped over Lando and over to Lance, putting his hands firmly on his shoulders.

"If you shot him, then someone in the building probably heard it. What happened?" Esteban asked, and Lance could see in his face how difficult it was for him to remain calm.

"...burglar," was all Lance could choke out, a lie that he told in an attempt at somewhat saving his image. Perhaps if Esteban only knew that he had killed someone, not that he had cheated, there was at least a chance that things would somehow work out.

"Alright. It was self defense then, baby, let's call the police so that this can get cleaned up," Esteban was already on his way over to the telephone and scrolling the numbers in before Lance could protest or tell him not to.

It only took minutes for the police to get there, and Lance once again felt nauseous as he had to sit there while investigators looked over the scene of the crime, his crime. They never seemed to stop taking photographs, and Lance clung to Esteban with shaky hands as they looked over every single centimetre of the house, and when it was noted that there was no sign of forced entry, Lance began to fear that he was going to be found out. More and more, the investigators began to poke holes in the burglary claim, due to very little being out of place and nothing showing that someone had broken in.

In fact, the only things out of place were Lance's clothes, still carelessly strewn about the room, and the condom packet that was left on the floor beside the bed. Eventually, that was the nail in the coffin, and Lance wasn't quite sure of everything that happened but he found himself being placed in handcuffs shortly after the discovery. There were people shouting and pushing and pulling him, and Lance knew he probably should have felt something other than the simple exhaustion that was settling into him as he was getting arrested.

Despite the chaos, what stuck with Lance the most was the heartbroken look on Esteban's face as he watched Lance be escorted out of the apartment, still clutching Lance's silk shirt that had been on the ground in his hand.

* * *

Throughout the whole process of being taken and booked in to jail, Lance could still barely believe what was happening. He hadn't planned to kill anyone, and truthfully he wouldn't have killed Lando if it weren't for the threats the Brit had been making. As his mugshot was taken and he was dressed in the dull jumpsuits that made him really look the part, it dawned on him that him being arrested for murder wasn't any better than having an affair scandal.

Lance regretted the very first time he even saw Lando on that day when he had been sad enough to seek the comfort of someone else while Esteban was working. If he had just been content with his marriage, Lance thought, he wouldn't have found himself in this scenario and he wouldn't be thrown into a dreary, wet jail cell in the middle of the cold night.

"Lights out, kid, get to sleep," the guard, a soft-spoken man named Lewis with tattoos all up his arms, said as he passed through the hall. He gave Lance a sympathetic look and Lance wondered how someone as kind as him ended up working in a prison.

"It's cold," Lance whispered back. He sat on the cot that was provided for him and tried his best to bundle up beneath the thin blanket that was in the cell.

"I know, but you'll survive. Just get some rest, from what I've heard you've had one hell of a day," Lewis said, giving Lance a reassuring nod before he moved on, checking in on the rest of the cells in the row.

Lance frowned and lay back on the cot. It was thin and not at all supportive, the opposite of the warm and comfortable bed that he would usually be curled up in alongside Esteban. Laying there and staring up at the ceiling, Lance wondered what Esteban was doing, what he was feeling after finding out that his husband had cheated on him and murdered the man he cheated with. In his head, Lance could picture Esteban alone in the bed they shared each night, wrecked by the pain of knowing Lance had been disloyal to him and the trauma of finding a dead man in the apartment.

It took a while for Lance to fall into a restless sleep, and he still felt tired when he was woken up the next morning by the sound of Lewis' voice ringing out down the hall. Around and across from him, Lance saw other inmates dragging themselves out of bed, and coming to wait by their cell doors. Lance did the same, not knowing what they were waiting for, and shortly after he was taken to eat with the rest of the prisoners.

Breakfast was nothing glamorous, and Lance shuddered as he swallowed down something tasteless and fairly gross. It made him miss having something homecooked or bought from a local bakery with Esteban; how much he had taken for granted in his life had never been so apparent.

Free time wasn't something Lance had expected to be given in jail, but he wasn't complaining when he and the rest of the inmates were allowed into a common area for a little bit. Of course, they were heavily guarded, and Lance gulped when he saw the amount of armed guards standing around, watching them like they were animals in the world's worst zoo. Lance tore his eyes away from the guards and tried to find something to do.

It reminded him of the first day of school, but this time with other felons instead of students. Lance looked around at the room full of strangers, debating if he should just sit by himself or talk to people. It wasn't like there was really that much to do; in fact, all he saw anybody doing was sitting and staring, reading a bible, or playing a game of cards, like he saw a group of men at a round table doing.

One of them noticed him looking and beckoned him over, a coy smile blessing his features as he looked over Lance. "You're new here, baby," he remarked in a sweet voice, "you've got that look on your face that all the new boys do. I'm Charles, what's your name? What did you do to get yourself stuck in here?"

Lance awkwardly shuffled over to the table and sat down among the small group. There were six of them, and they all set their cards down upon seeing Lance join their circle. On one side of him was Charles, and on the other side was a young man with long hair, elegantly pulled back into a bun. Looking around the rest of them, Lance also saw a short blonde with an angry expression and a tattoo poking out of the neckline of his jumpsuit, a man with a rather tan complexion and soft looking hair, and two men who looked a bit older than the rest, seated next to each other and murmuring softly amongst themselves.

"Uh, I'm Lance," he stammered, feeling himself fold beneath their curious eyes, "and I killed someone."

"Well that's a bit obvious baby, you're on murderer's row. We all killed people, what did you do?" Charles pressed further, leaning forward and against the table. When Lance simply flushed with embarrassment and couldn't seem to get the words out, Charles giggled and said, "Can't talk about it? I guess we should introduce ourselves before we hound you into giving the details of whatever sinister thing you did."

The men sitting with him took turns listing their names, each one nodding or giving a tense smile to Lance as they did so.

"I'm Antonio, and the shampoo they give us here is awful, just so you know."

"Kevin, and don't let Charles bully you into gossiping with him."

"Hi, I'm Carlos."

"Sebastian. I know the first couple of days are overwhelming, so if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

"Kimi."

Lance nodded, taking in the sight of the lot of them. Some of them seemed almost too nice to have possibly killed someone. Antonio's shyness made Lance wonder what he could have done, and Sebastian seemed more like a caring dad than someone who should be in jail for murder. As for Charles and Carlos, Lance had an easier time picturing them as felons, and Kimi and Kevin fit the bill for what Lance imagined every stereotypical murderer to be like.

"So you're in good company," Charles nudged him with his elbow.

A few awkward minutes went by where Lance simply sat there, his hands folded while the rest of them continued whatever card game he had been interrupting. He looked over the inmates, wondering if he should say anything, when someone else beat him to it.

"I suppose we should tell him our stories first if we expect him to do the same. I'll go first," Kimi muttered, his even voice never wavering, "my husband got himself killed because he didn't know how to shut the hell up. Some people just don't know how irritating their habits are..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo here is the next chapter ❤️ I don't know how frequently I will be able to post the chapters for this but here's chapter 2 sjsj!

Kimi was about ready to punch a hole through the wall when he got home from work, and fiddling with the keys on the front porch to get the door open was only making his patience snap quicker. A headache had begun to settle in the back of his head and Kimi let out a long sigh as he finally got the front door open. A long day at work left him ready to be at home, where he didn't have to pretend to like his coworkers or put up with training nosy young people who were newly hired.

He dropped his briefcase by the door and instantly went into the bedroom to change into clothes that weren't stiffened with an insane amount of starch, grimacing at the same stiffness in his spine and the exhaustion that seeped into his bones. The silence in the bedroom was a sort of paradise to his irritated self, and Kimi stood there and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

It was promptly broken by the sound of the phone ringing. The loud, shrill sound of the bell fueled the fire bubbling beneath his skin, and Kimi let out a frustrated noise as he ran down the hall to where the phone sat on an end table, and he reached out and smacked the entire machine to the ground. The receiver went flying off of the stand, making a loud sound against the floors. Whoever was trying to call would have to simply wait for a while.

Kimi tried to steady his breathing and calm himself down from the phone ordeal, only to find a new source of irritation. The next room over was the sitting room, where he could hear loud opera music down the hall from the record player that sat on the coffee table.

There was only one person who could possibly be playing it, and Kimi knew he shouldn't have been surprised to see his husband on the couch, a bottle of wine next to him and the newspaper in his hand as the music played. It always made him just the smallest bit angry that Fernando didn't work for nearly as long or as hard as he did. Kimi didn't know why it made him so mad that he left the house before and got home after the Spaniard, but it did, and he always came home to Fernando lounging around like he was the one who should be exhausted and worn out.

"Turn that shit off," Kimi hissed as he stormed into the room. He could somehow tolerate Fernando's habit of sitting around all afternoon, but the music was something that made him want to smack the record player the way he had done to the telephone.

"No," Fernando refused, raising an eyebrow at the Finn's mood, "I want to listen to it." He seemed to assume that the conversation would end there, turning his attention back to the article he was reading and taking another drink from the bottle.

Kimi narrowed his eyes and curled his hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palms despite the pain it brought. Coming home to a house that was just as annoying as his workplace, not cleaned at all, and with his husband making no attempt to do anything like cook dinner made Kimi wonder what all their years of marriage had been for if it was just culminating into something unhappy.

He darted forward and took the needle of the phonograph off of the record so that the music abruptly stopped, saying in a stern voice, "well I don't. I've put up with noisy and obnoxious people at work for the whole day, I don't want to hear it in my own fucking house now too."

"Why are you always like this when you get home? Always being an ass and complaining and treating me like this," Fernando argued. He set the newspaper down and crossed his arms, looking up at Kimi with an offended expression.

Kimi wondered how they had managed to be together with their differences for quite a few years. It wasn't until recently that their different personalities and habits had started creating issues, and Kimi couldn't quite pinpoint when or why it had started. Perhaps it had just come with age, Kimi thought. Fernando was naturally quite loud and vivacious, especially in comparison to Kimi, who was much quieter and preferred things to be calm and silent. When they were younger, they had dealt with each other's opposite nature quite well, even appreciating the differences they had. Nowadays, it infuriated Kimi that Fernando seemed incapable of just _being quiet_ for a little bit.

"Because all you do is sit here like some princess who's completely unable to do anything around here, and you just have to be so _loud_ all the time," Kimi snapped, gesturing wildly with his hands. He was aware that he was raising his voice as well, but he was too far gone to care.

"This is my house too, Kimi, I'm allowed to do what I want here. Go outside if the music bothers you so much," Fernando said, leaning forward to put the record back on.

The sound of the needle meeting the record and the offending music playing once more met his unwilling ears, the opera singers seeming to taunt Kimi in some high-pitched tone that was torturous. Maybe it was something with the frequency of the music or the ridiculous notes that the singers hit that was responsible for making him do what he did next, Kimi thought.

He stood there with his fists curled for just a few beats, unable to form words, before he spun around and marched over to where the old shotgun sat by the fireplace. It was some old thing that they kept just in case something happened, just in case they were the next victims of the various criminals who hung around the city. Kimi wasn't even sure if it was still loaded, but he took the gamble as he raised the gun, staring down the barrel and right at Fernando's loud presence.

Kimi didn't think about any potential consequences, he only thought that he was rather justified in doing it as he fired a _warning shot_ directly at his husband, silencing him permanently. In his anger he shot the phonograph too, the round splitting the material of the record and bringing it to a stop.

It was now silent in the house, the only sound being Kimi's deep breathing and the ringing in his ears. He stood there, staring at what he had done, before turning around to set the shotgun delicately back beside the fireplace.

With that, Kimi went about his evening. The only thing that even slightly disturbed him was the knock at the door, which brought the police into the house and resulted in his arrest once they saw Fernando and the record player, both shot dead.

* * *

Lance sat and listened to the story in shock, feeling a sickly disturbance at how calmly Kimi relayed the story. It was as if he was talking about a trip to church on a sunday, not the sudden murder of his husband that he had committed over something that Lance thought was pretty trivial. If Esteban were playing music, Lance didn't think he would have resorted to killing him over it.

"So you just...shot your husband because he wouldn't be quiet?" Lance asked, his palms cold and shaky. Charles bit his lip to try to stifle a laugh, though somewhat unsuccessfully, and Lance wasn't sure what part of his question was so funny.

"If you had been there, if you had to put up with his noisiness for all those years," Kimi said through gritted teeth, "I bet you would have done the same."

There was a silence that followed, and Lance folded his hands and looked down at his lap to avoid looking at the Finn. Another voice, Carlos, eventually broke the silence, smoothly announcing, "I'll go next." The group shifted to all lean closer to pay attention, and Lance wondered if his story was going to be as psychotic as Kimi's.

"It started when I met Daniel a few years ago. We got along really well, I thought he was attractive and he was into me too, and so we started dating. Eventually we moved in together, and things were going great," Carlos recalled, "until one night a few months ago..."

**Author's Note:**

> originally i was going to publish this all as a one-shot but i got tired of it sitting in my drafts so i will be breaking it up into chapters. at the time im publishing this first one, i already have the second one finished and part of the third! hopefully it wont take me forever to write the rest of them too but knowing me i cant make any promises akjsdj
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @esteboo-ocon


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